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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363100">Desire and Duty</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Hearts/pseuds/Cheshire_Hearts'>Cheshire_Hearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ratchet Week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ficlets, Gen, Ratchet Week 2020, Ratchet worries over Drift, like a lot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:21:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Hearts/pseuds/Cheshire_Hearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet tries not to think about the mech he saved all those vorns ago in the Dead End, but sometimes things are easier said than done. He just hopes the mech survived and is happy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ratchet Week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Desire and Duty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 1 of Ratchet Week was Duty/Desire and I kind of used them both? This also turned out a little different than what I was expecting, but I had fun writing it. I don't write Ratchet all that often.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ratchet hadn’t thought much about the dying mech Optimus had brought in all those vorns ago. Sure, he thought about him from time to time, hoping the mech had found a way out of the slums and made something of himself, but those thoughts were infrequent at best and fading quickly. Ratchet couldn’t even really remember what he looked like beyond dirty white plating, pretty blue optics, and long finials. He couldn’t even really recall the mech’s name anymore unless he thought about it for a long time. Still, he hoped the mech had survived and done something worthwhile with his second chance at life.</p><p>He thought nothing of the rumors surrounding yet another ‘Con assassin rising quickly through the Decepticon ranks. There was always some new mech rising for a vorn or two before they inevitably were killed or simply disappeared. Ratchet was sure this one would too. The name Deadlock kept coming up though; from whispers in darkened hallways, to reports in officer’s meetings, and from the mouths of dying mechs on his operating table. Vorns passed, and Deadlock’s name didn’t vanish like it should have.</p><p>Ratchet tried not to think about the mech, but it was hard when he was stationed at a base in an area where Deadlock had been seen. Not to mention the injured mech’s that showed up in his medbay all had similar wounds and tales of a dark plated ‘Con with finials and crimson optics. Ratchet knew what Deadlock was rumored to look like and the descriptions fit perfectly. </p><p>The higher-ups tried to keep Ratchet in the base, but sometimes it was impossible and he’d slip out to help the other medics on the battlefield. Today was one of those days. Ratchet’s servos were covered in Energon and his frame was streaked with it and a thick layer of dust. He’d moved away from the main fighting, searching for survivors on the outskirts and places where the fighting had already moved on. </p><p>Ratchet was knelt on the ground next to a minibot whose spark was fading. His focus rested solely on the injured mech, neglecting everything else around him. The battle had moved on, he figured he had nothing to worry about anymore. He froze when the warm barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his helm. His servos stilled over the gaping wound he’d been trying to patch.</p><p>“You should focus on your surroundings more.” A dark voice rasped behind him. Something about it was familiar to Ratchet, but he couldn’t quite figure out what about the voice made him think of dirty white plating and a different mech fading under his servos.</p><p>“Hey, did you hear me?” The gun barrel nudged at the back of his helm.</p><p>“Yes,” Ratchet snapped back. “And I’m choosing to ignore you for the moment. Either shoot me or figure out what you’re doing. I’ve got a mech who’s bleeding out that I’d like to get back to helping.”</p><p>The gun wobbled a bit and then vanished completely. “Ratchet?” The voice sounded shocked, vulnerable even.</p><p>Ratchet looked over his shoulders and stared at the dark grey mech with wide crimson optics and long, white finials. He blinked up at the mech. “Drift?”</p><p>Something snapped in the mech’s face, his optics going cold and a sneer twisted his faceplates. “That’s not my name anymore!”</p><p>Ratchet just stared at the mech, at Deadlock. When he’d hoped the mech had survived, had gotten himself out of the gutters, had made a name for himself, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Deadlock’s name eventually disappeared, not that Ratchet had been trying to keep track of the mech. He didn’t know what he wanted of the mech, not really. His feelings were twisted up over the ‘Con after their last encounter ended with the assassin vanishing with a hissed threat. All he knew for certain was that he didn’t want Deadlock dead. It was something which he really didn’t think too hard about. He should want the mech dead, after all he had killed so many in only a few vorns. Still, a part of Ratchet hoped he hadn’t died. That he was alright somewhere else or that the other officers had stopped talking about Deadlock around Ratchet for some reason.</p><p>So he kept busy, which wasn’t hard with a war going on. He kept busy and he kept an audial out for any news of the ‘Con’s assassin. He tried not to get worried when there wasn’t any. Ratchet just kept hoping he’d gotten out alive somehow. Maybe he was off doing some secret mission or something. He deserved better.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Another new base and another new group of mechs. Ratchet was tired of constantly being moved around now. Optimus didn’t think he was safe so close to the frontlines anymore, not after he’d snuck off to help dying mechs on the battlefield. Ironhide and Prowl agreed with Prime. Medics should stay behind, stay safe.</p><p>Ratchet scowled at the perfectly cleaned counter and scrubbed the spot again out of frustration. Most died on their way back to the base’s medbay and it wasn’t like Ratchet could bring them back. So why not have a few medics closer? It was sound logic, something Prowl had agreed to as well, so long as it wasn’t the Autobot’s CMO. Ratchet had to stay behind and wait for dying mechs to be brought to him. Of course he’d left and gone to help when the base had been cut off from the battlefield. It wasn’t like he’d left the base’s medbay without a medic.</p><p>As punishment for defying clear orders to stay behind, Optimus sent him to some backwater plant far away from the frontlines and the one place he could be most helpful. As if that would somehow fix his issues with disobeying direct orders. Ratchet felt like stealing the nearest shuttle and flying back to the frontlines just to prove a point to Optimus, but he wasn’t that stupid.</p><p>So he kept cleaning the medbay and scaring pretty much anyone who walked in away. He stayed there long enough for a new batch of Autobots to arrive. He wasn’t expecting to see familiar white finials poking out amongst the crowd of new arrivals. It had been a long time since Deadlock or Drift had crossed his mind, and he’d long since given up chasing after mechs with white finials, but something about these ones drew his optics and kept his focus glued to the new mech. It wasn’t an easy thing either, the hallways were narrow and there were too many mechs all crowded together. Many of them between himself and those tapered finials. By the time Ratchet shoved his way forward, the mech was long gone.</p><p>When Ratchet got the updated crew roster and checked it over no one with finals showed up. Maybe all those long nights had finally caught up with him. Hallucinations weren’t exactly common, and Ratchet doubted he’d hallucinate Deadlock of all mechs, especially when he hadn’t thought of him in a while. Now Deadlock was all Ratchet could think of. Maybe the mech had gotten out, maybe he was still a ‘Con or maybe he was neutral now. It didn’t exactly matter anyways. Ratchet would likely never know what had became of the mech; would likely never see him again. What were the chances they’d both survive the war? That they’d somehow end up crossing paths again?</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Ratchet heard a few whispers and rumors about various ex-Cons over the vorns. Nothing concrete or solid about the one he was looking for though. He’d met a few, worked with some others, and there were a few rumors about a new Autobot who used to be a high ranking Decepticon. They were infrequent and often contradictory.</p><p>Ratchet tried not to pay attention to any of the rumors. He didn’t need to get his hopes up only for them to be dashed. What were the odds that Deadlock was still functioning? Or that he’d somehow defected to the Autobots side? No, Ratchet wouldn’t think about any of that. It was better to just ignore all thoughts about the mech and avoid any rumors that might be about him. There wasn’t any use in hoping. The mech Ratchet had saved in the Dead End was likely dead and gone, and even if he’d survived this long, he wasn’t the same mech Ratchet had seen with so much wasted potential. And still Ratchet hoped he was alive somewhere.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Somehow they’d won. Ratchet didn’t want to think about it too much. Sure, he’d celebrated with the rest, was still nursing a drink and watching all of his friends make drunken fools of themselves, but he still didn’t want to think about it too much. He didn’t want to think about all the lives lost or all the Decepticons they had in holding right at that moment. He didn’t want to think about all the mechs in his medbay, both ‘Bot and ‘Con alike, who were injured, and he definitely didn’t want to think about the ones who wouldn’t make it.</p><p>He downed the rest of his highgrade and looked around for whoever was serving the terrible stuff. It tasted like slag, but at least he got a charge from it and it had started numbing his mind to reality. His optics landed on a bright red and yellow speedster bent over laughing so hard his vents were wheezing loud enough for Ratchet to hear over all the revelry. He had an arm wrapped around a slightly taller and bulkier white mech with shapely thighs and a massive sword strapped to his back. The white mech turned his helm and looked down at his companion with a soft smile and Ratchet’s next in-vent caught in his throat. The mech’s familiar bright blue optics looked worried, but the long finials were what really drew Ratchet’s attention. </p><p>He watched, transfixed by the familiar shape and cant, not realizing he was staring until the mech turned his helm and looked Ratchet right in the optics. Drift’s optics widened in shock, finials dropping. He turned back to the mechs he and his companion were talking with before turning around and dragging his now complaining friend with him right toward Ratchet. Ratchet startled back, bumping into the wall he’d leaned against, glass almost slipping from his loose fingers.</p><p>He wasn’t ready. There was no way he was ready to talk to Drift, especially when he wasn’t sober. He wanted to run, but there was a wall at his back and Drift had made it halfway across the room while dragging his friend and hadn’t taken his optics off of Ratchet for even a klik. Not to mention the shy smile slowly spreading across his face. </p><p>“Hi Ratchet,” and his voice hadn’t changed a bit since the Dead End or when they’d met all those vorns ago on a battlefield. The only difference was how he spoke; without the rasp and growl and lacking his harsh tone.</p><p>“Hey Drift,” and the blinding smile Ratchet received melted his spark. All those vorns of wondering and worrying were done. Drift was standing in front of him, smiling happily. He was safe, he was alive, and Ratchet didn’t have to worry about him anymore.</p><p>“Hey Rodimus, how are you? Oh, you know I’m totally fine, i’s not like my amica dragged me over to talk with the grumpy medic or anything when we were having <em> sooo </em> much fun with nicer mechs.” The red and yellow speedster grumbled from where he was draped over Drift’s shoulder. Drift gave him a flat look and let him go. Rodimus hit the ground with a clang and startled yelp. Ratchet barked a sharp laugh at the wide opticked look of utter betrayal Rodimus gave Drift, who simply rolled his own optics at the other speedster and turned a blinding smile on Ratchet. Yeah, Ratchet was sure Drift would be alright from now on.</p>
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